


A Cautionary Tale (with curtains)

by chaineddove



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cautionary Tale (with curtains)

**Author's Note:**

> An utterly ridiculous little drabble, because bearit deserves something happy. Because I love this game like burning. Because it's really unfortunate that this option is not available in-game. Also, because Isabela always tops, the end.

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” she croaks, because in spite of how it must look, she’s certain to have one, if someone would just turn off the sun and let her _think_ for a moment.

Varric is grinning at them in such a way that she’s pretty sure he’s not buying what she’s selling, not that she’s got much to offer at the moment. “No, Hawke,” he says, without bothering to hide his merriment – or closing the curtains, damn him. Although, come to think of it, Hawke isn’t entirely sure Fenris has curtains, at least not still attached to the walls. “I really don’t think there is. The front hall, huh? I couldn’t have done better if I’d made it up.”

Hawke tries to glare, manages to grimace. “If I hear about this at the Hanged Man-”

“What are you doing in my house?” Fenris growls. “Rather, how did you get _in_?”

Isabela lifts her head and offers a sleepy laugh that ends on a wince. “How does he ever get in anywhere?”

“Oh, there you are, Rivaini,” Varric booms cheerfully. “I didn’t see you under that… is it a curtain?”

“So _that’s_ where the curtains went,” Hawke mutters, pulling some of the scant covering over her chest. Not that everyone in this room hasn’t already seen her naked, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“It’s your color,” Varric says gallantly. “I’ll make sure to mention it.”

“Mine, or hers?” Isabela wants to know.

“Both.”

“Out,” Fenris and Hawke say in eerie unison. It would be funny if her head weren’t killing her.

“Or if you’re going to stay, get me that bottle,” the ever-practical Isabela amends.

Varric shrugs and fetches it, then asks, “You’re not hiding anyone else under there, are you? I haven’t seen Daisy around yet, and usually-”

“ _Out_ ,” Hawke repeats, trying to decide whether she wants to laugh or retch, or both, because not only is her stomach decidedly unhappy with her decision to polish off that much wine without any food – in her defense, Fenris’ larder is _always_ empty – but the thought of anyone _else_ being under the curtain is rather disconcerting. She’s pretty sure she would remember Merrill, fuzzy as her head is.

Isabela takes a swig from the bottle – not that there’s much left – and passes it to her. Choosing caution, Hawke passes it on to Fenris who, predictably, throws it at Varric. He misses. Varric gives in and laughs until he can barely stand.

“Go away,” Hawke begs. “ _Please_. And take the sun with you when you go.”

“You’re looking a bit green, Hawke,” Varric tells her, blithely ignoring her request. “Maybe you should let Blondie have a look at you? I think he might be the only one who hasn’t yet had the pleasure.”

“ _No!_ ” Fenris roars, stumbling up to his feet and staggering over to where his abandoned sword harness is leaning drunkenly against the banister. Isabela watches him weave over to it with clear fascination. It is Varric’s good fortune that Fenris does not seem capable of getting the sword unsheathed, though he does try valiantly.

Hawke sighs and tells Varric, “When you talk about it, at least leave that part out.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” the dwarf tells her soothingly. “I’ll make sure everyone knows your complexion is dewy and perfect even after a night of unmentionable debauchery, the better to highlight those bite marks.”

Isabela laughs and puts her head on Hawke’s shoulder, which does, at least, make sharing the curtain easier. Fenris is still cursing his uncooperative sword in the corner. Hawke sighs again. “Well, that’s something.”


End file.
